“…This bastard fights like absolute shit.”

Ihan muttered what was, in his opinion, the highest praise for his opponent.

Escape, retreat, flight—whatever term one might use, any knight who held honor in high regard would have scoffed and spat at such an act. But Ihan, who lacked the sentimental values of a knight, saw the enemy’s retreat as nothing short of a perfect backstab, making his blood boil.

It gave him the distinct feeling that he had been played.

That alone was enough to make him pursue the bastard at all costs.

Kwaaaang!

[Gigigigik!]